Point Blank
by Jara
Summary: In hindsight things are always much clearer. (SJR)


Rating: PG (perhaps PG-13)  
  
Category: Angst, SJR  
  
Spoilers/Set: None (Possibly S8 but I wrote it completely without relating to it)/Future  
  
Summary: In hindsight things are always much clearer.  
  
A/N: Huge big thanks to lisayaeger and nhawk78 for playing guinea pig. A major thanks to hyari who booted my ass several times and made this fic what it is. I couldn't have done it without you, yoyo. And another big thank you to splash_the_cat for her beta and keeping my head from exploding.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The asphalt made a soothing sound under the fast moving wheels of his truck, the monotonous noise giving him a false sense of detachment.  
  
In hindsight things are always much clearer. But then it's too late.  
  
They should have waited. When they pulled him out of retirement, he knew he had pissed off enough people to never make it past Colonel. So he had never expected to get further in his career. The only thing that would change their situation was Carter's promotion, but that seemed years away, even if he thought she deserved it already. Retirement or replacement wasn't an option either of them even considered. It was their fight, their war and they'd both stick it out.  
  
Things changed though, and suddenly they'd both lost the strength to keep fighting. Him from waiting endlessly in the briefing room and praying she would make it back home. He hadn't prayed for years. He prayed for her, to whatever god that didn't have a snake in his head and glowing eyes.  
  
He still wasn't sure what had happened to change her mind. He never fooled himself on that; it had always been in her hands. So he didn't protest when she showed up at his quarters that night. Didn't protest as she pushed him on the bed and changed his world.  
  
He should have protested.  
  
For a while things went great. The first stage always did. The only thing that seemed to matter was when and where they'd be able to get their hands on each other. Stolen moments between missions, always at a hotel room. Both unable to deal with the reality of their own houses. As if the anonymity of a paid room would soften the blow if they had a fall out.  
  
It didn't last long. Perhaps he never expected it to. He'd just thought it would end differently. Carter would come to her senses and he'd spend the rest of his life fishing in an empty lake. Or one of them, and he hoped to God it'd be him and not her, wouldn't make it back through the gate.  
  
In hindsight, he should have known they were following him. The rat bastards always had, so why would they suddenly stop? He'd found the envelope shoved under his door. No address, no name and still he'd known what it was before he'd opened it. Proof against them, against her, and a warning to carry his burden alone. The price he'd pay if she found out way too high.  
  
He'd understood what he had to do. He couldn't give them more to hold against him, against her. Ending their relationship would have been too obvious. She could read him easily, she would know.  
  
In the end he used the O'Neill charm; he played the ass that he ultimately was. He saw her annoyance, knew she wanted to hit him a couple of times in the field. Still she took him to the hotel. Still she touched him like only she could. And still, he wanted her like no other.  
  
The white envelope waiting for him the next day made it clear that he couldn't want her, not anymore.  
  
The next mission had seemed a blessing, or a curse. They'd be off-world for two weeks. No chance for them to get up close and personal. He could play it cool, create a distance between them and do what they wanted him to do. He played his cards well, he always had. Be an ass, a jealous ass. The head of the Abronian scientist team was besotted with Carter (but then who wasn't?). He'd accused her, ignoring the hurt in her eyes that he could mistrust her like that. In the end, hurting people he cared for seemed to be the thing he was best at.  
  
Two weeks of playing her. Two weeks of accusations and stinging remarks - Jack O'Neill at his finest. It broke her. As soon as Hammond said 'dismissed', Carter had raced down the ramp. He didn't see her again until the briefing, where she spoke to him only if he directly addressed her.  
  
It was over, that much was clear. He was surprised Hammond didn't pick up on the hostility that now existed between him and Carter. Instead, he was told that, after a long debate with the president, it had been decided that he would be promoted. He hadn't been able to control the hollow laugh at the news.  
  
That evening, he'd found another envelope on his doorstep. This time no photos; only an order to let the promotion pass him by and for him to leave Colorado.  
  
He couldn't let them get to her. He couldn't allow them to destroy everything she had worked for. She had too much going for her to be forced to go through a court-martial.  
  
So he'd left.  
  
His headlights lit up the narrow road before him. Asphalt had now long turned into gravel. He parked the truck next to the road, just far enough so they wouldn't hear him coming.  
  
Jack climbed out of the truck and disappeared into the shadows of the trees. He could hear their voices through the dark. Crawled closer. And waited.  
  
He shifted his weight to relieve the pressure on his knee and glanced sideways to where she would be. She wasn't there. Only shadows. Like he would become to her. Which was how it should be. How he needed it to be. He had known the moment he'd found out their location. Months of biding his time, laying low and hoping they'd forget about him.  
  
Tonight, he'd make them remember.  
  
The only sound they heard was the loading of his gun. 


End file.
